


Sweet As Cream And Coffee

by orphan_account



Category: All New X-Factor, Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, F/M, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Sub Pietro Maximoff, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro would never admit he likes dressing up in lingerie, but Wanda and Remy sure like seeing him do it.</p>
<p>Just a short fluffy piece of smut and three consenting mutants having some sexy times, from Remy's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet As Cream And Coffee

Pietro shuffles and looks down at the floor, rubbing one ankle over the other.

“If you’re having second thoughts, it can wait.” Wanda kisses the hollow between his cheekbone and jaw, warm and spicy with equal amounts of promise and reassurance.

“It’s fine.”

Self-consciously smoothing his hands over his thighs, Pietro looks down at himself. Standing next to the mirror, Remy follows his gaze and enjoys what he sees. Wanda’s standing before it in nothing but her underthings, but it’s the matching outfit on her brother that’s getting his attention for the moment. White satin heels, like a bride. Fishnets. Matching panties with ruffly trim—surprisingly flattering at the top of his lean, muscular legs. Bare midriff. Soft lace bralet, lying flat against the slightly peaked nipples.

“Sure is,” Remy agrees in a drawl, grinning up and down at him. Pietro’s face goes from tan to dusky rose. “Didn’ expect such a nice view, speedy. If anything I woulda pegged you as the commando type.”

“I didn’t ask for flattery.” Pietro sniffs, but there’s a glint in his eye that says he’s both pleased and relieved by the praise. “If you’re ready, so am I.”

Wanda smiles and wraps her arm around his, leading him toward Remy’s bed. He follows, a hand floating over the small of Pietro’s back.

Gathering her brother into her lap, Wanda rubs the flat of her hand into the front of the panties. Pietro whimpers, hips shuddering a little, and flushes when the lace swells up against her palm. Remy’s grin prompts a little huff and an abrupt turn away.

“You look so nice, Pietro.” Her voice is a purr, the accent less prominent in her mouth than her brother’s muddy murmur. “Such a pretty boy. So sweet, dressing up just for little old us. Isn’t that right, Remy?”

Remy nods and growls playfully, running his fingernails down the speedster’s spine and reveling in the shudder that follows, the white marks quickly filling in on the darker skin. Wanda kneads her brother’s firm thighs, spreading them just a touch, and Remy reaches between them to stroke over the silky fabric, then under.

“Delicious,” he adds, nipping just beneath the band of Pietro’s bra. “I could eat you up like crème brulee, _cher_.” The moan that action evokes sends a pleasurable shot of heat down the center of his belly, and he snaps his teeth over Pietro’s ribs just a little harder. Pietro wriggles, grinding down over Wanda’s legs, and makes a small mewl of feigned reluctance.

“H-hnn.”

“Mm, you like that, don’t you, _mon chou_?” Growling playfully, Remy runs his teeth over the other man’s ribs and twists his wrist to rub over his tip. “Come on, don’ be shy. Let your sister hear it.”

On the other side Wanda’s reaching under the soft cups to work her twin’s nipples, already mounded and taut. Pietro bites his lip hard and squirms; Remy whistles as the pressure on his hand increases and squeezes back, rolling his fingers.

“Shit,” gasps Pietro. It’s the first word he’s spoken since consenting. The profanity sounds incongruous falling off his normally-so-proper tongue, like a polished marble statue suddenly spitting out chunks of glass. “Yes, yes. Keep going.”

Wanda smiles the glowing smile that spreads like wildfire and pushes him back, pinning him to the smooth modern headboard and hovering to one side. “You’re allowed,” she tells him, and inhales deeply as his long fingers disappear behind the fabric of her panties. She tugs them down to her knees and he pushes in needily, thumb flicking and grinding over her clit and fingers crooking in well-practiced movements.

“How far you wanna take this, dreamboats?” Remy dampens his lips, a breathless little chuckle rising behind them. “Remy got all night and no particular place to be.”

“Have you seen him come from just foreplay yet?” Wanda glances over, flushed and breathing shallowly. Remy flicks his eyes up from watching her brother’s hands—one working between her legs like it’s got somewhere to be, the other balled in the sheets. “It’s beautiful.”

“So let’s do it.” Deliberately he climbs up slow, hand over hand, to Pietro’s chest and pins him down. Pietro’s eyes meet his, already glassy with need, and immediately flick away. “What you think, _lapin_? You want more than that, or you like the thought of us takin’ you apart with our hands?” Pietro whimpers. “Oui? Four hands, all on you all the time, maybe Wanda pull your hair hard like you like it?” A fuller-throated groan, the kind Remy’s been waiting to hear. “You gonna be a good boy for us, _petit_?”

Pietro nods in a blur, breath whirring in his throat.

“Mm, yes, _please_ —”

“ _Très bien_. Now show me how sweet you can be.”

Remy shucks his clothes finally, laying back on the pushed-up mountain of blankets and guiding Wanda nearer as Pietro scrambles up and leans forward on his knees, one hand disappearing under his waistband. “C’mon, _ma tigresse_ ,” with a playful swat to one buttock. “You look tasty—lemme have a sip.”

She laughs and knots her fingers in his hair with an easy power that tells him she’s used to the maneuver. “You’re a tease, LeBeau. Go ahead, put that tongue to better use.”

Remy doesn’t make a secret of it; he loves giving oral no matter to whom, and Wanda is a delightful subject. Her warm, already slick folds are salty with lust and he laps it up, a cat with cream, almost purring as she moans and rolls her cushioned hips, knees anchored on either side of the blanket his head rests on.

Remy wonders if each suck on her swollen bud feels as good as her brother’s questing tongue and lips feel sliding over his tip. Then, Pietro starts _humming_ , skin buzzing against wet skin, and he stops doing much thinking at all. Wanda reaches back to grab her brother’s head and push it down, curving her back in a C of excitement as her legs shake and her orgasm pours out.

It’s not long before something hot comes unknotted in the pit of his stomach, too. Remy’s not normally loud, but he groans in gratified relief as his release overtakes him. Pietro chokes—clearly he’s not quite experienced enough to be familiar with the warning signs—and for a moment Remy’s concerned, but the flushed face and shined-up eyes and the tacky, salty lips that press against his are worth the momentary stab of guilt.

Pietro’s turn now. As one they rise and flatten him over the mattress, pulling off the soft, silky scraps. He wriggles and squirms like an anxious rabbit, but not hard enough to purposefully break free. Their hands roam, tweaking and rubbing, pinching and squeezing. Each of his whimpers and pants seem like they’re coming as a pleasant surprise to him, and his own orgasm (messy and heavy) seems to take him completely off-guard.

Tiredly Remy laughs and rubs Pietro’s ass. He receives a swift, light slap in response; all the same Pietro pushes his back close against him, seeking out the warmth of his sticky body. Wanda smiles and cups her twin’s damp white curls as carefully as she might a baby’s, and as Remy settles down into a soft and sated sleep, he looks at her glowing face pressing a kiss against one pale brow and thinks, almost drunkenly, that he knows why Pietro wanted it, the whole _make-a-new-world_ thing, because he’s damned if any man at all who’d known that touch and that supernova passion wouldn’t gladly sell the universe to keep it in his arms.

They sleep into the double digits and the comfortable brightness of sunlight settles into its grooves between the Venetian blinds, and nobody bothers to pick up the white bra and panties for hours after waking.

Just like the body they’d been on, it seems agreed, they deserve a lie-in.


End file.
